Ogling
by NixDucky
Summary: In which Sam goes jogging.


**AN: Happy Birthday Worm!**

**I pictured this in my head and it made me giggle.**

**As this work is a gift for my usual beta, it has not been beta'd.**

**Timeline is somewhere between seasons 11 and 12. Just to make sure everyone is present and accounted for.**

* * *

_**ogle**__ : To look or stare, esp. admiringly, amorously, flirtatiously, or lecherously. _

Eileen's hands were wrapped around a paper cup of coffee. It was early fall, so the mornings were starting to get chilly, and she could see the fog from her breath mix with the steam from her coffee. At least, she _would _be able to see it, if her eyes weren't glued to something far more interesting.

Sam ran past, completing another lap around the ornamental lake, and waved as Eileen took an absentminded sip of coffee. She gave a vague wave back, but really she was more focused on his thighs just then.

Eileen had stopped in at the Bunker on her way to—well, nowhere in particular, really. She was crossing the country, keeping an eye out for potential hunts, but things had been surprisingly quiet, and she hadn't seen the Winchesters in a while. She figured it was as good a time as any to get the grand tour of their Bunker and catch up with the brothers. See if they could point her in the direction of some supernatural action. She'd arrived last night, and when Sam asked if she wanted to join him for a jog that morning, she'd politely declined the jogging part, but agreed to keep him company at the park, if a good cup of coffee was a part of the deal. Sam had beamed his dimples at her and happily agreed.

Eileen was not ashamed to admit the coffee had been a cover. You couldn't really tell a guy you just wanted to watch while they ran laps around a small body of water, could you? That would seem sexist. But Eileen couldn't feel all that guilty when Sam jogged past, smiling at her and looking all… well, like _that _.

He was wearing light-weight jogging clothes; gray shorts that weren't tight, but fitted over his thighs and butt quite nicely, not leaving anything to the imagination. His tank top was the same, not body-hugging, but draped loosely over his broad chest, clearly showing how his pectoral muscles moved with every swing of his arms. The cut-off sleeves displayed his biceps in a way that was probably illegal in some countries, and Eileen squeezed her thighs together when she saw the shadow of his nipples showing through the damp fabric.

Eileen noticed a movement beside her, and dragged her eyes away from Sam to see a small, redheaded woman, wearing an elaborate dress completely unsuitable for a morning in the park (and somehow still looking absolutely suitable on her), sit down next to her, her lusciously made-up eyes fixed on the back of the tall man now jogging away from them.

The redhead signed a phrase Eileen would be too embarrassed to admit she knew the meaning of—but whole-heartedly agreed with when it came to Sam—then winked at Eileen, and said, "I'm Rowena. Sort of a family friend." Then she looked back at Sam. "My my. Samuel does leave one _wanting _, doesn't he?"

Eileen gave a small lopsided smile and nodded as her gaze turned back to Sam, on the other side of the lake by now, quickly making his way back to them. She said with a sigh, "His long legs…" She could clearly make out his calf muscles bunching as his feet hit the ground.

She felt a light tap on her leg, and turned to see Rowena say, "His long hair." Rowena shook her own head, and fluffed out her outrageously flame-red hair. "Perfect for tugging on." Eileen giggled softly.

Sam ran past them then, but slowed down a little when he saw Rowena. His eyes went wide and he looked straight at Eileen and raised his eyebrows, clearly asking if everything was okay. Eileen gave him a thumbs up and another smile, gesturing that he should carry on with his run. After looking from one woman to the other for a moment, Sam shrugged and picked up the pace again.

Eileen looked at Rowena and snorted when the woman delicately wiped a little drool from the corner of her mouth.

Then she _heard _, clear as a bell, someone huff and say, "His long fingers. Perfect for… other things." She looked up and saw a small, stocky man in a suave suite, wearing sunglasses, a goatee and the most lascivious smirk she had ever seen. He sprawled down next to her on the opposite side of the bench to Rowena. She saw him nod to the other woman and again, heard him say, "Mother." She turned to Rowena and saw her roll her eyes and acknowledge the man with, "Fergus."

Eileen quickly turned back to the man, about to ask him how she could hear him, but he cut her off with, "What's the point of being the King of Hell if you can't use a few tricks. Never learned sign language, anyway." At which, Eileen gave an eyeroll. Typical. "You can call me Crowley. The witch here is the only one who calls me Fergus."

Crowley? Oh right, 'King of Hell.' Eileen gave him a suspicious look. "I've heard about you."

"Naturally, darling," Crowley drawled. "But not to worry. Let's call this 'shore leave.' I'm not planning anything dastardly. Not right now, anyway." And he gave Eileen a wink that was uncomfortably similar to his mother's.

Eileen considered him for a moment, and then gave a small shrug and sat back, bringing her coffee back up to her mouth for another sip. She swallowed the warm liquid and ran her tongue over her lips as Sam, still with his back turned to them, slowed to a stop and bent over, catching his breath.

"Oh my," Rowena gasped. Eileen hadn't seen what Rowena had said, her attention obviously being elsewhere, but she did catch the movement from the sudden intake of breath. Eileen herself had nearly let her cup slip out of her fingers at the sight of thin fabric of Sam's shorts being pulled so tightly over his ass. She gave a little hiccup, and clutched her cup a little tighter.

Crowley muttered, "Well now that was unnecessary. Someone is showing off." Eileen glanced over at him and noticed him shifting his legs a little awkwardly. Trying not to make it obvious that she was looking, Eileen shifted her gaze and… yep. Definite bulge in the man's crotch area. It actually made Eileen feel better knowing that she wasn't the only one who had such a visceral reaction to the physical reality of Sam Winchester.

Sam stood up and started jogging again. It was ridiculous the site he made among the other joggers. Everyone just faded into insignificance. Like, you couldn't even see anyone else when Sam was around.

Another sip of coffee to steady her breathing. "He's just… _larger _." She licked her lips again, and glanced over at the Rowena.

"Aye. He is that." Rowena leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. "He is that," she repeated, her eyes glazing over a little.

"And so flexible," Crowley added. Both women turned to look at him quizzically. He crossed his legs in an obvious effort to look as unaffected as possible. "He does yoga."

Eileen lifted an eyebrow. "And you know this, how?"

Keeping his eyes on Sam's figure, Crowley answered casually, "I spy on them."

"That's my boy," Rowena murmured.

Eileen stared at Crowley, shocked at his unrepentant honesty.

He glanced over at her. "Do you blame me?" He nodded towards Sam, and she followed his gaze. Sam had obviously noticed that Crowley had joined them and had lengthened his strides as a result, pushing himself to get to Eileen quickly. _He's such a worrywart _, Eileen thought to herself. _As if I can't defend myself against a crossroads demon with delusions of grandeur _.

Although she had to admit, now that she'd met Crowley, she could understand why the boys hadn't killed him yet. He was kind of cute, in a blink-and-he-might-kill-you-sort-of-way.

Sam skidded to a halt right in front of the bench, out of breath and looking equal parts concerned and angry. He glared at Crowely.

"What the hell are you doing here, Crowely," he growled.

Out of the corner of her eye Eileen could see Rowena squirming a little next to her. She turned to see Crowley's reaction to the giant panting in front of them.

Crowely was pouting and Eileen stifled a giggle. "Now, why aren't you asking the witch the same thing?"

"Samuel has a soft spot for me, don't you Samuel." Eileen missed the first part of what she said, but by the way Rowena was batting her eyes at Sam, she got the jist.

Sam just looked flustered.

Just at that moment, a drop of sweat slid its way from behind Sam's ear, down his long neckline, and disappeared behind the fabric at Sam's collarbone. There was a simultaneous intake of breath from the three figures on the bench as their eyes followed the tail of that droplet. Eileen felt her mouth go dry.

"...just one lick," she heard Crowley mutter. She quickly looked up at Sam to see if he had heard. Sam was moving his eyes between the three of them, looking confused. His head whipped to Crowley with a "_ What _?"

"And, that's my cue to go. See you later, girls." He winked at Eileen and then nodded at Sam. "And boy. Boy oh boy." And with that he was gone.

"What the…" Sam looked at Eileen. Eileen looked at Rowena. And they smiled at each other and then looked innocently up at the glorious vision that was a sweaty, albeit flummoxed, Sam Winchester.

"It's nothing," they said together. And then broke down giggling.


End file.
